Forever the optimist
by porcupineridge
Summary: My first fanfic. Set before Iain and Rita got together, and before Dixie left. Rita is troubled and hides it well under her bubbly persona. Will be Freechamp in the end. Rated T for mentions of self-harm and other potentially triggering subjects.
1. Chapter 1

The snow continued to fall heavily around her as she made the short journey from her car to the main entrance of the ED. With every step that she took, yet more snowflakes fell about her face and hair, and began to settle onto the dark blue wool coat that enveloped her slender frame. As she entered the ED she frowned as she heard the cackles of laughter emanating from the staff room and echoing around the department. Patients littered the waiting room like damp waifs and strays in a Salvation Army soup kitchen. How on earth could there be time for laughter and frivolities when the department was bursting at the seams, she wondered, pausing for moment to decide which incompetent member of staff should be deemed responsible for the latest cock up to inflict her precious department.

As she turned her head, she knew instantly which member of staff she would be holding responsible for the scenes of chaos that had confronted her as she had entered the building. Joking with Lofty, messing around with Robyn, flirting (for want of a better word) with Ethan and Cal, and just generally wasting valuable time with any other member of staff who happened to walk past the nurses' station. Her short blonde hair flicked out as she turned her head and gave her attention to Charlie who was handing her a large stack of patient files.

There was an air of silence that suddenly descended as she crossed the waiting room and entered the department – all quiet except the blonde's insistent nattering and carrying on. Doctors and nurses scuttled back to work and ensured that they were meaningfully engaged with the ever growing list of mind-numbing tasks that seemed to consume their daily hours and take them away from actually treating the patients in need of their help and expertise.

As she passed the nurses' station, she shot a poisonous and venomous looking glace towards her Clinical Nurse Manager. It didn't go unnoticed by the carefree, blonde nurse, or indeed, her colleagues.

"You're in for it now," said Robyn, her voice no more than a whisper, for underneath all the bravado and camaraderie, she'd rather not cross the path of their formidable clinical lead.

"I've no idea what you mean Robyn," replied Rita, with a confidence which she didn't herself believe.

"I'll see you in my office in 5 minutes Nurse Freeman," came the cutting voice which shattered their thoughts and sent Robyn bustling off to cubicles in a fluster. Rita sighed and inwardly told herself to man up and get on with it. She had, after all, been on the receiving end of Connie's wrath many a time before.


	2. Chapter 2

Rita counted out the 5 minutes on her nurse's watch meticulously. Once she satisfied that 5 minutes had passed she found and strength from somewhere deep inside her and knocked firmly on the clinical lead's office door.

"Come," said the voice from the other side of the door. It was a firm, no nonsense sort of voice that made Rita hesitate slightly before she entered, feeling that she was an innocent entering the lion's den.

"You wanted to see me?" Rita asked, sounding hopeful. She was, after all, the optimist on the team.

"Yes," came the clipped reply, "I do not expect to find chaos upon my entry into the department. I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that we are running an Emergency Department and not a kindergarten." Connie paused to take a breath.

Rita stared at the immaculately tidy desk in front of her. She didn't dare utter a response in case one wasn't required. She waited for Connie to continue.

"So….What do you have to say about this?"

"Ummmmmm…..I'm sorry. I really am sorry," Rita paused, "I don't really know what happened," she lowered her head and looked to the floor, "I guess I took my eye off the ball."

"Yet again you are a disgrace to this department, how many more times do I have to tell you?" Came the exasperated voice of the clinical lead. Connie was not one to worry that the irritation she was currently feeling was clearly visible to the recipient of her ranting. "It's unprofessional, unnecessary and I will not tolerate my department being run in this way."

Rita began to wish that the ground would swallow her up right there and then in Connie's office. Seconds passed although time seemed to have slowed for Rita. A slight feeling of nausea and dizziness rushed over her; probably just a result of the fact that she hardly ate anything at the moment, she thought. The ridiculously tiny meals that she tried to convince herself were a sufficient and balanced diet for a woman as busy as her were obviously starting to take their toll.

"You do realise that unless I see a dramatic improvement in your working practises that your job WILL be on the line." Came the sharp tone that cut through her thoughts like a knife. In an instant, she was jolted back to reality; to the here and now.

Rita gulped. She stared into her clinical leads' eyes, as if looking for an answer. A pair of brown eyes stared back at her, not blinking for a second.

"I'm very sorry Mrs Beauchamp, it will not happen again," said Rita quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"It had better not happen again Nurse Freeman, otherwise the consequences will be quite severe." Her tone was colder and more intimidating that the wintery weather outside that contributed to the mass influx of patients into the department.

Satisfied that Connie had said her piece, Rita quietly turned her back on her boss and made a steady but swift exit from the office. She took a steady walk back to the main reception and hastily got back to work. She couldn't help being slightly distracted by the fact that despite the fact that the formidable clinical lead terrified and intimidated her, there was definitely something that in some way intrigued Rita about the older woman.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews. I have been so worried about posting this (as in the story) as haven't written anything like this before! Hope you like the next chapter and my style of writing. Please read and review.**

Rita kept a low profile with the clinical lead for the remainder of her shift; partly due to self-preservation and partly down to fear of what might happen should Connie carry out any of her less-than-idle threats. As much as she admired the clinical lead, she couldn't help but be afraid of what Connie could be capable of should she stay true to her words. Little did Connie know that the laughing, joking and confidence that she oozed was all a brave face. A brave face that covered a multitude of past experiences that haunted her to this day and had an influence on every moment throughout her every waking hour.

The rest of Rita's shift passed her by with a blur. She rushed from case to case, patient to patient, giving each and every patient her all. There was no time for laughing and joking with colleagues with the cases that came thick and fast through the ED doors. Towards the end of her shift, Rita found herself treating a young woman with a broken wrist; she couldn't help but notice that she was covered in bruises and so shy that she could barely give Rita any eye contact and seemed ashamed to show her face.

From a distance, Connie watched as Rita treated a young woman with injuries consistent with domestic abuse. She marvelled at the way the blonde nurse made the scared and frightened young women feel at ease throughout her treatment. She watched with admiration as she stayed on after her shift had ended in order to comfort and give advice to the woman. A feeling of guilt ran through her body as she watched Rita give so much love and care to such a vulnerable patient. She felt angry at herself for giving Rita such a dressing down earlier in her office, when she could see that the clinical nurse manager was so good at her job and such an asset to the team. With guilt, she recalled the fearful expression which had pained Rita's face as she'd answered her with such a timid voice whilst avoiding any eye contact as she'd hurriedly left the office.

Once she'd finished with her patient and given her all the help and support she could, Rita made her way to the staffroom to get changed and collect her bag ready to make her way home. Her earlier cheerful and carefree mood had been replaced with a dark, sinking feeling that she struggled to shake off. The combination of a dressing down from Connie, followed by her domestic abuse patient had stirred up more old memories and feelings that were now flying through her mind. The intimidation she'd felt earlier in Connie's office brought back strong reminders of Mark and how he'd constantly tell her she wasn't good enough: not good enough to have his baby despite knowing how desperate she was to become a mother and share her caring and love with a baby; not good enough to have friends outside of work or his circle of friends, especially ones that he didn't approve of; not good enough to be treated like the single most important thing in his life like other men treated their girlfriends or wives. Her eyes began to well up with tears as she slipped her feet into her converse trainers, wiping her eyes roughly with her sleeve as she turned the key in her locker door. She heard the door click quietly behind her as someone entered the room. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to find Connie standing by the door watching her intently.

"Um, Mrs Beauchamp…" Rita began, assuming she had done something else that the clinical lead didn't approve of and it wouldn't be long until she carried out her threat from earlier. Thoughts whizzed through her mind as she racked her brains hard as to what it was that she'd done. Her breathing became shallower and faster as she began to panic; she'd spent the rest of her shift working her socks off so what on earth had she done?

"Rita, are you ok?" Connie asked with concern in her voice as she walked towards Rita and encouraged her to take a seat.

"I'm fine, just a bit tired that's all," Rita replied hurriedly as tears threatened to spring from her eyes once more. "I'd better be off, early shift tomorrow…don't want to be late." Rita made her way to the door. Connie couldn't help but notice that Rita seemed to have a look of embarrassment about her as she steadfastly refused to make eye contact with the clinical lead.

"In that case, can I see you in my office first thing tomorrow?"

Rita paused with her hand on the handle. Thoughts rushed through her mind once more. Connie really was going through with her earlier threat. Her job was on the line and knowing the way her luck went; she'd probably be looking for a new job come tomorrow morning. Rita felt a wave of nausea rush over her. Nursing was all she'd ever wanted to do and now is was all going to be over, knowing Connie she'd probably fire her then and then in the morning. She hurried away, forgetting to even say goodbye in her rush to get out as negative thoughts took over her usually rational mind.

Connie watched as Rita disappeared. She couldn't help but notice that Rita seemed preoccupied and upset. As much as Rita infuriated her with her tardiness and sometimes blasé attitude, she couldn't deny that Rita really was a great nurse and was excellent at her job. She also couldn't let go of the feeling that she'd felt when she saw Rita turn around with tears in her eyes, and when she'd seemed to be panicking about something: a feeling of concern and compassion, and the overwhelming desire to bring her close and comfort her until she calmed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - TW - alcohol abuse and self harming**

The icy air hit Rita's face as she made her way through the double doors and out of the hospital. Her recent weight-loss, not that she'd needed to lose any weight, contributed to the almost constant chilly feeling that rarely seemed to leave her. She wished she had a thicker winter coat and had remembered her scarf but yet again, she'd been running late this morning and had only just managed to make it to work on time as it was. In some ways, the cold icy air was a welcome relief and distraction from the challenges of the day. She took a few deep breaths as she left the warm air of the emergency department and moved in to the cold as she set about walking the relatively short distance back to her flat. As she walked, her mind replayed the last conversation she'd had with Connie, "Can I see you in my office first thing tomorrow –?". Rita knew it could only mean one thing, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to hear it.

Nursing was all she had after Mark had so publicly humiliated her and left her with nothing. She thought of how hard she'd worked to recover from the hurt and pain that he'd caused; the nights she'd spent sobbing all alone, the times she'd drunk so much she'd woken up not knowing how she'd got to bed and the multitude of times that she'd found everything just too much and been so overwhelmed that her only release was with a sharp blade and a bottle of wine.

She knew, deep down, that she wouldn't be able to bear it if Connie took all she had left away from her. It would break her. The rational part of her mind told her that if she were to resign and look for a job in another part of the country then she could have a fresh start. Whilst the irrational part of her told her that she was not good at anything and no one would ever want her anyway – regardless of the part of the country that she moved to. Throughout her walk home amid the falling snow, the internal battle played out within her mind. As she arrived home damp and with a slight covering of white snow, she craved nothing more than a large glass of wine in which to drown her sorrows. Her hands felt uncompliant due to the cold as she tried to turn the key in the lock. Frustration began to take over as she struggled to complete the simple action of unlocking her front door. Eventually, in the warm and welcoming space of her hallway, she shrugged off her wet leather jacket and kicked off her shoes. Her first thought was to have a drink. She entered the kitchen and took a wine glass from the shelf before taking a bottle from the fridge and filling the glass to the brim. She took a long sip, enjoying the feeling of the overwhelming desire that all the day's worries were about to be taken away as the cool liquid slipped down her throat.

As the evening wore on, she drank increasing amounts of her preferred wine. Lucky she lived near an off licence that usually had one of her favourite Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc on special offer. To be honest, even if they weren't a favourite, they would still be purchased if on offer. After all, it didn't really matter what the wine was – it was the quantity and cheap availability that mattered.

It was a bizarre feeling; the more she drank, the happier she felt. The more she drank; the more she liked herself. The more she drank; the better she felt she could cope with all the things that life threw at her. The more she drank; the more she thought that others might like her too. The more she drank; the more confident she felt.

It began to be a vicious circle. The more she drank, the more she liked herself. The more she drank, the more she felt confident. The more she drank, the more she thought others would like her. The more she drank, the less she hated herself. The more she drank, the more she thought about harming. The more she drank, the easier it became to make that first cut. The more she drank, the easier it became to dismiss the cuts; the more normal it felt. After all, she deserved to feel the pain. She deserved to be in discomfort. Connie hated her. She was a liability to the department.

As she sat on the sofa she sobbed. The tears came thick and fast as she thought about her relationship with Mark; the lies, the heartbreak, the guilt she felt. Trickles of bright red blood ran freely from the most recent incisions to her wrists and arms. She sobbed harder as she thought about her impending meeting with Connie in the morning. There was no way that the outcome of the meeting was going to be positive for her; Connie hated her with a passion that would make firing her the only option. Feeling slightly delirious and with her head spinning, she stumbled into the kitchen, using the door frame to support in staying upright.

She delved into the kitchen cupboards for the full bottle of vodka that she knew was there, along with a stash of near on 100 paracetamol tablets. With a slight trepidation she unscrewed the top of the bottle, and hastily took a large gulp before she had second thoughts. The clear liquid burned her throat but still she continued. This was as much a punishment as it was a pleasure. Gulp after gulp she took, pausing for breath every so often but not wavering from her aim.


	5. Chapter 5

**I confess, I have no medical knowledge whatsoever (apart from how to use a sticking plaster, a wet paper towel or running it under the tap!). I have done some research in order to try to make this chapter accurate but apologise for any errors.**

The door of the ED were flung open and Dixie and Iain rushed through the open door.

"This is Rita Freeman, 32, GCS of 8, BP's…"

Connie switched off to Dixie's words as they wheeled Rita into resus. The small blonde was unconscious and unresponsive as Iain initiated the transfer of Rita from the trolley to the resus bed. Connie felt herself in a trance-like state as she watched Rita's unresponsive body move across ready for treatment.

"We found these next to her," said Dixie, referring to the multiple empty boxes of paracetamol tablets and an empty bottle of vodka that she carried in her hand. Connie's heart missed a beat as she glanced at the empty containers in Dixie's hand. She looked between the blonde on the bed and Dixie's hand as if in a trance, not quite believing what she was seeing.

She wasn't sure what feelings were rushing through her body. There was so much worry, with a large feeling of guilt all mixed up with a hint of love and affection. The feeling that she'd felt so strongly in the staffroom earlier now seemed to have magnified itself a thousand times. For a split second she wished she wasn't clinical lead, a consultant in Emergency Medicine who had an expectation to remain calm, level-headed and rational whatever the given situation.

She wished she could be the supportive next of kin; the one who gets ushered to the relatives' room with kind looks and sympathetic glances. The one who no one puts any pressure on in case they should crumble and break under it. The one who gets multiple offers of cups of lukewarm tea that they don't want. The one who plays such an important part in that patient's life.

"Connie!" said the sharp voice which jolted her back to reality; back to the here and now. She turned to Zoe who was now staring at her, waiting for a response.

"I…I….," Connie began. She stuttered. Not because she didn't know what to say but because the whole situation had shocked her to her core. And ultimately because she felt responsible. She knew that Rita had been struggling. She had seen the look in her eyes when she had reprimanded her in her office earlier. She had seen the interaction between Rita and the young women admitted to the ED earlier that day whom she had treated with such compassion. She had also seen the look in her eyes before she had left for the evening. And yet she'd stood back. She'd chosen to do nothing about it. She'd let Rita go home alone, despite that fact that she's seem with her own eyes that she was upset, on the edge, troubled – whatever you wanted to call it.

"Connie, we'd all understand if you feel you can't treat her. It's always hard when it's one of our own and no one would think any less of you." Zoe spoke calmly, although her voice had an overriding sense of urgency.

"No, it's…I'm fine." In an instant, Connie switched back into Clinical Lead mode. It was as if someone had flicked a switch inside her own head. She knew had to this for Rita. She's already let her down so badly already. She needed to put things right. This was her chance. The one thing that she was good at and where she could be herself. She needed to be at her best; she needed to do it for Rita. Glancing down at the tiny frail-looking frame which was laid on the bed beside her, she knew it was time to act.

"Right, let's run some bloods, FBCs, U&Es and paracetamol levels. Robyn, can you start her on a first infusion of acetylcysteine 9.8g in 200mls of 5% glucose over an hour."

She'd taken a guess at her weight in order to work out how much acetylcysteine to administer, but as she looked closer, she could see just how tiny her clinical nurse manager had become. Her bones were prominent and her arms looked so fragile. Snapping on her gloves, she began to examine the lacerations to Rita's wrists and arms. Amongst the fresh cuts she could see a plethora of old wounds and scars.

"Right, Robyn, can you clean and dress these wounds, satisfied that none were too deep to require stitching." Deep down, she wanted to do it herself but felt too many questions wold be asked. She watched with a slight envy as Robyn carefully began too tend to cuts which stood out so prominently against Rita's pale skin. She busied herself by checking Rita's obs again. She just hoped that they'd been able to help Rita in time.

Connie knew as well as anyone that chronic excessive alcohol consumption can increase the potential toxicity of paracetamol. Of course, Rita knew that too which was presumably why she'd done what she had. Connie could only be thankful for the fact that Rita had been brought into the ED relatively quickly as her neighbour had heard a loud crash and, given that he had a spare key for emergencies and knew she lived alone, had popped round to check everything was ok.

There was still no sign of Rita starting to come round. Connie tried to calm herself, knowing that this wasn't unusual in patients who'd consumed vast quantities of alcohol and drugs. The trouble was things wasn't just another patient. This was Rita. Fun, loving, kind, bubbly Rita who made everyone feel at ease in the department, regardless of whether they were a new member of staff or a frightened patient or relative. Watching Robyn finish dressing Rita's wounds she found herself struggling to keep her emotions in check. She wanted nothing more than to hold her in her arms and take all her pain away.

"All done," exclaimed Robyn. Her voice shattering Connie's thoughts and bringing her back to the present.

"Robyn," called a voice from the doorway, "are you free?" Robyn glanced at Connie, silently asking permission to leave Rita and attend to another patient.

"Go, you go," said Connie quietly. "I'll keep an eye on her." She looked up to meet Robyn's eyes, "I won't leave her alone," she added. It was always hard treating a member of the team. Especially one as well loved and respected as Rita. Connie knew the other staff would want to know that she was receiving the very best care possible.

Now alone, jut the two of them, Connie stood beside Rita. She marvelled at the way that despite being so desperately ill, Rita looked so calm and beautiful. The delicate paleness of her complexion enhanced by the harsh lights of resus and the events of the evening. Gently, Connie took her hand and moved her thumb in small circles over the back of it. Her other hand reach out tentatively to brush against Rita's cheek and carefully remove the strands of hair that were caught in the elastic of the oxygen mask. As she held Rita's hand, she couldn't help but wonder what had driven her to such drastic action. Feelings of guilt washed over her as she remembered, with regret, the things she'd said to her in her office earlier. Rita didn't need reprimanding or a dressing down; she needed to be understood. She needed love, kindness and compassion; the things that she gave others in such abundance yet never seemed to get in return. Connie contemplated this as she prepared the second infusion of acetylcysteine, praying optimistically that Rita would start to respond to treatment soon.

 **Hope you like this chapter x x x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for the reviews. I adore these two characters so much so am enjoying writing this story.**

Rita groaned. Her head was banging. As she began to come round she felt something pushing against her face, over her nose and mouth. Feelings of panic ran through her as she felt her mouth being covered and crushed; she couldn't breathe.

"Rita," came the soft voice from beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're ok, you're in resus. Just relax."

Rita forced her eyes open. She couldn't recognise the voice which spoke so calmly and seemed to give her confidence and hope. She needed to see who it was.

"Uh," she tried to move away from the brunette who was looking down at her. She tried to scramble from her grasp – as gentle as it was. Connie could only be here for one thing. She knew what was coming to her. That was the reason she'd taken the overdose in the first place. Panic began to set in. Her breathing became shallower and faster. She had to get out of here. Out of the hospital. Away from everyone who she let down. Nurses were people who others depended on, who they looked up to. No one would look up to her. She was useless. A shameful excuse for a nurse.

"Rita, I need to you try to slow your breathing down," came Connie's voice, bringing her back to reality. "Look at me," continued the voice, "Breathe in, and breathe out….that's it." Connie said as she tried to get Rita to match her own breathing. Rita glanced up at the brown eyes peering down at her. As she focused on her breathing, she gazed into the eyes boring down at her. As she looked into them, she found she saw compassion and sympathy. As she looked again she saw a look of kindness and concern that she'd not seen before. Something had changed; Connie had changed. As her breathing began to slow and calm, Connie took her hand and gave it a very gentle squeeze. Rita felt herself begin to relax into the bed beneath her. There was something remarkable about this moment that they were sharing. Two closed souls were on the verge of opening up to each other – desperation bringing them closer and closer together.

Rita's breathing began to relax into a normal rhythm. Connie kept Rita's hand in hers, gently squeezing and massaging it to provide them both with the comfort they needed.

"How are you feeling?" Connie asked tentatively, not letting go of her grasp on Rita's hand.

"I've been better," replied Rita honestly. Her eyes looking away from Connie, not able to give the clinical lead eye contact as she remembered the events of the past 12 hours.

"You know, there are people who can support you," Connie began.

"I'm not some nut-job that needs locking up!" Rita retorted, raising her voice slightly.

"I know. I just think," Connie paused, "that it might help for you to speak to someone, that's all. I'm not going to force you to do anything. I can't. I just want you to know that I am here if you need anything, anyone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, or whatever."

Rita looked away and closed her eyes. Everything was getting a bit too much to deal with again. She understood and could almost cope with grumpy Connie. Boss-like Connie. Connie who you didn't want to get on the wrong side of. But this. This was different. This was compassionate Connie. Connie who cared. Connie who had feelings and emotions and made you feel as if you were worth something. This she wasn't sure if she could deal with.

With a final gentle squeeze, Connie let go of Rita's hand and checked on her vitals in order to complete the regular checks and fill out her chart. She worked quietly without putting pressure on Rita to talk if she didn't want to. She knew that Rita was recovering, for want of a better word, from a traumatic experience and she would need time.

"Why didn't you just let me die?" came the questioning voice that brought her thoughts back to reality.

"Because you are special, because you are worth so much, because you are loved and respected and," Connie paused, "and because of so many different reasons, I just can't list them." Connie's voice was level throughout. She seemed to be speaking from the heart but all the while maintaining a level-headed approach. Connie knew that she was opening up – something that didn't usually happen. She couldn't pinpoint why she felt comfortable enough to be completely honest with Rita, but she felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Like being honest would be the best thing for her, without the negative repercussions that normally happened.

 **Hope you like the updat**


	7. Chapter 7

**Once again, I apologise for any inaccuracies with regards to anything medical. I have researched to make it as accurate as possible.**

Connie glanced at her watch. The second infusion of acetylcysteine was nearly done. She began to prepare the third and final infusion of acetylcysteine to be infused over the next 16 hours. She knew that Rita, now conscious, was not going to be impressed at being kept in for a further 16 hours, minimum. Not that it mattered. The only thing that now mattered to Connie was Rita's health. She'd keep her here regardless and for as long as it took to get her better.

"I'm feeling OK," said a quiet voice. Connie glanced over to her, momentarily taking her eyes off the drugs she was drawing up.

"Good, but I don't think you're quite ready to leave right now,"

"I don't need help," Rita retorted. Connie raised her eyebrows as she looked over at her. She found herself marvelling at the fact that, even in the state she'd managed to get herself into, Rita was still so fiercely independent.

"That's fine, but at the moment you do need medication."

Connie's response seemed to shock Rita into silence for a moment. She had expected a lecture on how she would need to seek professional help. On how she'd need to take copious amounts of time off work. She certainly hadn't expected her to agree with her.

Rita watched quietly as Connie fixed up the next infusion. She wanted to say something but she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say. As she lay there, watching, she couldn't help but notice how beautiful Connie appeared as she worked. Her unwavering focus on the job at hand, the tender way in which she carried out the necessary tasks without causing Rita any pain or discomfort and the way she effortlessly made her feel at ease.

Connie busied herself with as many pointless and unnecessary tasks as she could find. She had so many questions that she wanted to ask Rita but wasn't quite sure how to go about asking them. The longer she stayed, the more intrigued Rita became. Why hadn't Connie rushed off to deal with another patient, or to complete the copious amounts of paperwork that littered her desk each day? A couple of other emergency cases had come into resus and Connie had passed them onto other doctors in the department, assuring them she was too busy to assist them.

"How are you feeling?" Connie ventured tentatively.

"I've been better," Rita admitted, before pausing slightly. "But I've also been worse."

"Do you want to talk about it?" said Connie in a quiet voice, gently taking Rita's hand in hers. Rita's heart almost felt like it skipped a beat as Connie made physical contact with her.

"Um," Rita began, "I'm not sure what to say." She closed her eyes. "I feel you're going to expect more of me than I'm able to give." She let the sentence out in a rush. The last thing she wanted to do was to let Connie down again. She had, after all, done that so many times already.

"No pressure, just what you want to say, when you want to say it." Connie moved her other hand to Rita's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. After initial tension, she felt Rita's body begin to relax.

"Don't you hate me?" Rita blurted out. She looked deeply into the clinical lead's eyes as she said it before shutting them sharply again, as if afraid of the answer.

"No," Connie answered simply. "I think you're a great nurse and you are too hard on yourself." As she looked down, she saw a frail and fragile individual beneath her. It was at that moment she realised. Rita didn't need reprimanding and punishing; she needed love, compassion and someone who genuinely cared about her.

"I let everyone down. I let Mark down, I let you down. I let my patients down and I am just not good enough."

Connie listened as Rita ranted on, putting herself down. She desperately wanted to tell her that she hadn't let anyone down, least of all her. She had a strong suspicion though that she wouldn't believe her.

"You haven't let anyone down," Connie began, going against her better instincts. The strong protective instinct which she felt for Rita ran deep. "All you need to worry about now is getting yourself better." Connie grimaced at her words. As if it would be that simple.

"I'm so tired of being alone," Rita said to her, glancing up slightly as she finished her sentence. "I just want to be liked, just want to be loved. I want to be the most important thing in someone's life. Is that too much to ask?"

 **Quite a short chapter I'm afraid - the next few are a bit longer x x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for the reviews. It's so lovely to hear what people think about the plot or my writing style. This is my first fanfic, and my other is a one-shot so not multi-chapter like this one.**

Rita was ready to leave. It was a strange feeling – leaving as a patient and not as a member of staff. She felt more vulnerable, more 'on display'. Physically, she felt ok, much better, and most definitely ready to leave. Emotionally she felt drained. As if someone had taken all her energy and positive thoughts and drained them in one simple procedure.

As she stood by the door, she felt a hand upon her shoulder and give a gentle squeeze.

"How are you doing?" came the concerned voice. She turned around to come face to face with Connie. Connie who'd barely left her side from the moment that she was admitted. Connie who'd cared for her as if she was a close family member. Connie who'd shown so much care, compassion and understanding – even when she'd been at her lowest point.

"I'm ready to leave," Rita began. Then she stopped. She didn't really know what to say next. She didn't want to say that she was fine because she wasn't. Not really. Deep down she knew she had a long way to go before she could really and truly say that she was OK.

"How are you getting home?" Connie asked. She had picked up on Rita's nerves and hesitation. She wanted nothing more than to scoop her up into her arms and keep her safe.

"Oh, a taxi," Rita mumbled. "It should be here soon," she added, as if trying to make polite conversation.

"I'll pop round later?" It was more of a question than a statement, but Rita couldn't help but feel that she didn't have a choice.

"I'll be fine. I just need to rest." In her head Rita couldn't see where this was going. As much as she'd grown close to Connie over the past few days, she was still fearful of the formidable clinical lead.

"OK, well, I'll pop round later," Connie replied as she released the grip that she'd had on her hand.

"You don't need to, I'll be fine," Rita hurriedly responded.

"I want to," Connie said with feeling. Connie drew Rita into a slight hug as her taxi approached. She watched as Rita gently climbed in and made herself comfortable. She waved as the taxi made its way out of sight.

The taxi pulled up outside the address that she'd given the driver. Rita passed him the money for the fare and gathered her things together.

"You alright love? You need a hand?" he asked kindly, turning round slightly to look at her.

"I'll be fine," she replied hurriedly. The last thing she wanted was anyone thinking that she couldn't cope. "But thank you," she added, worried she'd been too quick to turn down his offer of help. "Thanks," she called out as she shut the door of the taxi firmly.

She stood for a moment, taking a deep breath before she made her way up the path towards the front door. Part of her was pleased to be home. Being in the ED as a patient had made her feel uneasy; it was hard being looked after by your work colleagues when you were at your lowest point. The other part of her was reluctant to find out what lay on the other side of the door. She'd left the house unconscious, by ambulance, and she had no idea what state the house was in. With some trepidation, she turned the key in the lock and gently pushed the door open. He hallway looked remarkably like it always did.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting but the sight of normality seemed to calm her slightly. As she moved through the house and into the sitting room, everything seemed in its rightful place. The sofa wasn't littered with vodka bottles and empty tablet foils as she had anticipated. She wandered through to the kitchen and filled the kettle with fresh water ready to make a cup of tea. As she glanced around the kitchen, the enormity of the previous few days seemed to catch up with her. The overwhelming feeling of being alone seemed to catch up with her once more. Thoughts began to take over her mind; what if no one had found her? What if the neighbour had been out and hadn't her crash to the floor? What if he'd thought nothing of the noise he'd heard and hadn't bothered coming round to check? So many 'what ifs' were going through her mind.

Rita made herself a cup of tea and carried it through to the sitting room. Having changed into her pyjamas, she settled herself down on the sofa, with her head on many pillows and snuggled under a fleecy blanket. The room felt strangely quiet in comparison to the constant busyness and noise of the hospital so she found some easy viewing on the TV, with the volume turned quite low. The events of the past few days had definitely taken it out of her and drained a lot of her energy. As she lay there watching the mind-numbing daytime TV show, she couldn't help but think about how Connie had been over the past few days. The time and care she'd given Rita were undoubtedly second to none. Rita couldn't help but wonder what had caused the remarkable change in the clinical lead's behaviour and attitude.

Rita woke with a start to the sound of the doorbell. She groaned as she woke up and realised where she was. Maybe if she didn't get up the caller would give up and go away. The silence before the bell rang shrilly again was remarkably short lived. This caller wasn't going to be easily put off.

She stumbled to the front door; her head and mind still heavy with sleep and her limbs not quite as responsive and co-ordinated as they should be. Tentatively she opened the door and peered round to take a look at her persistent visitor.

"How're you feeling?" came the soft, caring voice from the brunette that stood on her doorstep.

"Connie," Rita started, "you shouldn't have come."

"I just needed to check that you were ok," came the gentle response. Rita noticed her choice of words. She hadn't just _wanted_ to check she was ok; she'd _needed_ to check that she was ok. Maybe that was the doctor in her. Although, Rita was fairly sure that Connie didn't _need_ to check up on every patient that came through the doors of the ED.

"Do you want to come in?" Rita asked, opening the door a little wider. Connie nodded, almost imperceptibly, before stepping over the threshold and into Rita's home. Connie slipped her feet from her heels as she entered, leaving them on the doormat and leaving her in stocking feet. Rita gestured for her to follow her through the hall and into the sitting room.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked. "I was just about to make some more tea."

"I'd love a coffee please," Connie replied, "here, let me put the kettle on."

"I can do it myself, I'm not completely incapable." Rita knew that her sharp response was a result of her own insecurities but she just couldn't help it. She didn't need looking after. She'd lived alone for a long time and didn't want to become dependent upon anyone anytime soon.

"I know, I just," Connie began, "That wasn't what I meant," she finished. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around the frail, thin frame of her clinical nurse manager and cocoon her in love until she felt better.

"Sorry, I just…" Rita mumbled as she began to fill the kettle. She suddenly felt very vulnerable in front of Connie, especially as she was dressed in her pyjamas. Despite her feelings of being so exposed in front of the usually formidable clinical lead, she couldn't help but feel the butterflies in her stomach and in her chest as she remained in the same room as her.

"I'm sorry Rita," came the soft, quiet voice from the other side of the room. "I'm sorry for how I treated you, for how I pushed you - for how I didn't listen or understand."

"You don't need to apologise," came the considered response. "You're my boss, not my partner. It's not your fault that I am too weak to cope with the pressure and find unsuitable ways of dealing with my own insecurities."

 **Hope you like it. More to come with Connie being caring towards Rit**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Have you eaten tonight?" Connie asked.

"Not yet," Rita replied. "I must have fallen asleep on the sofa earlier so didn't get round to cooking anything." Connie sighed at her response. If that was the case, then Rita hadn't eaten anything since she'd had breakfast the hospital. If you could call that a meal; Connie had seen the amount of food that Rita had left. In fact, she'd not seen her finish a meal throughout the whole time that she had been in hospital. She'd just assumed that it was because of the unappetising hospital food but the more she thought about it, the more she thought that maybe it was because Rita hadn't been eating properly long before she'd been admitted to hospital.

"Do you want me to rustle something up?" she offered. "I mean, my cooking skills aren't great but I'm sure even I can manage scrambled egg on toast." She laughed slightly as she said this and as Rita glanced towards her she saw the usually formidable clinical lead looking relaxed.

"I can do it," Rita began before Connie cut her off.

"I know you can. I know you are fiercely independent. I know that you've coped alone for a long time and I'm not disputing that. But right at this moment, I'd really like to take the pressure off and make you, well both of us, a very simple dinner." Connie's tone was kind as she spoke. She was speaking from the heart as she wanted nothing more than to help Rita; to be let in by her and allow her to give some support.

"Okay, scrambled egg on toast would be lovely," Rita conceded. "But only if you're sure you don't mind." She couldn't help but add.

"It would be my pleasure." Connie replied, crossing the room and gently taking Rita's hand in her own. "Why don't you go and make yourself comfy on the sofa whilst your kitchen and I get acquainted?" It was more of an instruction than a question. Connie gave Rita's hand a gentle squeeze before she let go and made her way to the fridge to find the eggs.

As Rita snuggled down underneath the fleece blanket again she smiled to herself. Although initially she'd been apprehensive about Connie's visit, she found herself finding comfort in hearing her move about the kitchen as she prepared their supper. She smiled as she thought back on the many times over the past few days when Connie had initiated physical contact with her: taking her hand gently into her own; squeezing her shoulder to give support, comfort and encouragement; standing that little bit closer than she usually would. Her smile faded suddenly as she thought she was probably reading too much into it. Connie was her boss, after all. All these things might make Rita's heart flutter but she doubted that Connie would feel the same. Rita tried to switch her mind back to the TV and whatever mind-numbing show happened to be on at present. Whatever had brought Connie here tonight, it certainly wasn't because she felt anything for her. As much as she'd love to feel optimistic about any future friendship with Connie, Rita knew deep down how that wasn't likely. After all, she was useless. Useless as a nurse, useless as a wife and just a general waste of space.

Connie entered the room, breaking her thoughts and snapping her back to reality.

"Here," she said as she waited as Rita propped herself up into a sitting position. "I hope it tastes okay. I'm so used to just cooking for myself that I forget that sometimes meals have to edible for other people!"

"It looks great," Rita said as she took the plate from Connie.

Connie sat next to Rita on the sofa and they both ate in silence for a few minutes. From time to time, Connie glanced across to Rita, watching her as she took tiny mouthfuls of her dinner, making each mouthful last what seemed like a lifetime.

"How're you getting on?" Connie said, breaking the silence. "Is it edible?"

"It's lovely," Rita hastily replied. "It is," she assured Connie who'd raised an eyebrow as she'd seen how much Rita was struggling to eat the simple meal that she'd prepared for her. "I'm just not that hungry at the moment."

Once they'd both finished, Connie took both the plates back to the kitchen. She couldn't help but notice that Rita seemed to have left more food than she'd eaten. She didn't want to say anything in case it made Rita feel uncomfortable but she couldn't help but feel worried about the frail blonde nurse who lay on the sofa in the adjoining room.

After clearing up the kitchen, Connie sat back down on the sofa alongside Rita. She paused slightly before taking Rita's hand in her hers. As she gently squeezed and massaged Rita's hand beneath hers, Rita gradually began to relax. Connie tentatively pulled Rita towards her as she relaxed back into the sofa. She let her hand run up and down the length of Rita's arm hoping that her gentle touch would provide Rita with the comfort she needed. Gradually, Connie could feel Rita relaxing into her soft embrace.

"You know I'm here for you, don't you?" Connie asked gently as she pulled Rita closer to her body as they both lay on the sofa.

"Huummmp," came the muffled reply. Connie felt Rita's body stiffen slightly alongside her own before relaxing again once she began stroking her arm once more.

"I'm here if you want to talk, want to moan or need to off-load." Connie's tone was soft and gentle and all the while she kept stroking Rita's arm in the same predictable, repetitive, reassuring rhythm.

"Thank you," came the mumbled reply. They sat in silence for a few moments before Rita spoke again. "I'm not really used to opening up to people. Usually, if I get close to anyone, sooner or later, it all goes horribly wrong."

As she paused to take a breath and in thought, Connie felt her heart skip a beat; how could anyone as lovely as Rita be so averse to letting people in? As she held Rita in her arms she wondered what she'd been through in the past. She knew that Rita's marriage to Mark had not been successful and from her own experiences she knew how much the deceit, the lying and the divorce must have hurt Rita. She felt herself pull Rita closer as she thought back to her own memories of relationships that hadn't quite worked out for the best. As she lay there next to Rita she found herself wishing that the moment would never end. At some point soon, Rita would surely come to her senses and see Connie for who she truly was. The thought terrified her. Over the past few days she had found herself becoming closer and closer to the clinical nurse manager, and she had to admit that the feelings that she felt for her were growing stronger and stronger by the day. Her biggest fear was that Rita would turnaround and tell her to leave; that she didn't want her help anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Rita woke with a start, for a moment, wondering where she was. The silent room was a complete contrast to the busy hospital ward where she'd spent the last few nights. The room was not quite completely dark enabling Rita to make out various features of the room. It was then that she realised that she was still nestled into Connie, who still had her arm draped over Rita's. She felt her body stiffen slightly for a moment as panic began to set in; she wasn't sure how to react to the knowledge that Connie was still there – still lying beside her. They'd obviously fallen asleep side by side as tiredness had succumbed them: Rita safe in the knowledge that someone cared and was there for her and Connie providing the warm and comforting embrace that pretty blonde needed so much. Rita felt Connie rise from her slumber a little in order to readjust her position in the sofa slightly. As she did so, she took Rita into her arms once more and held her tighter, held her safer. Rita gradually relaxed into her embrace and drifted off to sleep once more.

The morning sun shone brightly through the small gap in the curtains. Connie squinted as she woke up to the blinding light. She glanced down to take a look at the sleeping blonde who lay alongside her. Rita looked so peaceful and relaxed; her breathing was regular and relaxed, and her face was calm and without worry. Connie wished that she could keep it this way: for Rita to worry about nothing; for her to be so relaxed and peaceful without any stresses in the world. As she watched her sleep, Connie took the opportunity to marvel at just how beautiful her clinical nurse manager was: her delicate cheekbones that caught the early morning light; her pale pink lips that twitched every so often in her deep slumber, and her perfectly formed chin that she just ached to reach out and touch. Connie shifted her body slightly on the sofa in order to make herself more comfortable; her back stiff and aching from spending the night sleeping on Rita's sofa. She didn't dare complain though – she just felt herself so lucky that she'd spent the night with Rita at all.

Rita's right hand suddenly began to twitch. Connie took this as a sign that Rita would be waking up quite soon. As gently as she could, she tried to ease Rita from her fitful slumber and bring her slowly back to the here and now.

"Morning," said Connie as softly and as gently as she could. She took hold of Rita's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Rita's body lunged forward suddenly. She stumbled as she took the first few steps before making her way towards the stairs.

"Rita, what's wrong?" Connie asked. She was concerned for the frail blonde, who one minute was sleeping peacefully on the sofa and was dashing off upstairs the next.

Rita continued rushing up the stairs as fast as she could, just about making it in time to kneel in front of the toilet as the limited contents of her stomach rapidly emptied into the bowl. Connie dashed up the stairs behind her, just in time to see her vomiting into the toilet. She paused for a moment before placing her hand on Rita's back and rubbing small circles in order to provide reassurance.

Rita sat back on her heels momentarily before retching into the toilet bowl once more. Never had she felt so vulnerable, so helpless. Even when she was taken into the ED in her unconscious state, she didn't think she felt as defenceless as she did now. She wasn't sure if she wanted Connie's reassuring hand upon her back. Part of her wanted her to keep it there forever and to always be there for her, while the other part of her wanted to run a mile and to be nowhere near her boss' gentle embrace.

Satisfied that she had nothing more to bring up, Rita stood up slowly before making her way into the bedroom. She pulled herself to her feet using the sink for support, shrugging off Connie's kindness and concern. As she climbed into bed she pulled the duvet up to her chin, hiding as much of her body as she could from the world. Even with her eyes closed tightly shut, she could sense that Connie had followed her into the room. She kept her eyes tightly closed as she willed herself to be alone in the room.

"Rita, please, let me help you," came the quiet voice from doorway. "I want nothing more than to support you through this."

"I don't need your help," came the choked sobs that emanated from under the duvet, "I don't want your help." Rita forced the words out. Somehow she'd managed to find the courage to stand up and say what she needed to say. She needed to push Connie away before she got too close; before Rita began to trust her and began to get close to her. She couldn't let anyone get too close again; she knew it would all end in tears. Just like all the other times.

"Please, just go." Rita's voice was no more than a whisper.

"If you need anything, just let me know. I'll always be there for you," came the stilted reply. She could hear in Connie's voice that she was starting to break down. As she glanced up at her from beneath the duvet, she saw the tears silently tracking down the brunette's cheeks. She looked away quickly so that her own tears did not start to fall. She hated doing this to Connie. After all, she'd only cared. She knew she had to do this though; she couldn't afford to let anyone in. Especially not Connie. She knew as soon as she let her in it wouldn't be long until she let her down, and failed yet again. As hard as she found this, and as much as she wanted Connie, she had to be strong and do what was for the best.

 **Hope you like i**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for the reviews - it's good to know if I'm writing along the right lines or not.**

Chapter 11

The knock on her door was heavy and well-intentioned.

"Any news on Rita?" came the cheerful voice that opened the door and stood before her with a beaming grin on his face.

"No, sorry Charlie," she replied carefully.

"Didn't you pop round last night to see how she was?" he asked, knowing full well of her intentions when she had left the hospital last night.

"Yes, of course," she stuttered, "I popped round." She paused. "I did!" she exclaimed as she watched him raise one eyebrow. "I am perfectly capable of doing tea and sympathy you know," she reiterated.

"So how is she doing?" he asked. Connie rolled her eyes slightly as she realised that Charlie Fairhead was like a dog with a bone when it came to such matters. She sighed deeply before replying.

"She's ok. I made her some dinner which she hardly ate and then we fell asleep on the sofa." She paused. What was she supposed to tell him next? That Rita had practically sent her away from the house? That she'd left the house a crying, emotional mess as she realised just what Rita meant to her; how she wanted to be there to comfort her and cocoon her in love until Rita felt better? She could hardly tell him any of that, could she?

"I care for her Charlie," she began, "I care for her so much." She paused, as if waiting for a response from him. "I don't know what's happened – it's like someone has switched a switch inside me. I care for her so much, but she doesn't want to know," she added forlornly before continuing. "She told me to go this morning. She'd been sick – violently sick – and after that she just told me to go. It's like she doesn't want to let anyone in," she paused. "And I've been so open."

"It's going to take time," Charlie replied. "She may well not be ready to let anyone in right now. It's very soon and what happened is still very raw." He paused to take Connie's hand in his own. "She's been through a lot – it takes a lot to push someone to do what she did. Be there for her, but don't expect too much."

Connie sighed. Charlie Fairhead: The voice of reason. Everything he said made so much sense. When she thought about it logically, she knew that she couldn't be disciplining Rita one minute and showering her in love and affection the next. She understood that Rita wouldn't know where she stood with her behaving like this; Connie needed to get her own emotions in check too.

"Just be there for her, she'll come round in the end, I'm sure of it," Charlie said whilst squeezing Connie's shoulder gently with one hand. "She'll appreciate the time and effort – maybe not straight away, but she will."

"You're right, thanks Charlie," she began, "I've gone from no nonsense clinical lead who's always bollocking her to falling madly in love with her, all while she's unconscious due to an overdose. I can see why she's getting confused."

"You'll do what's right in the end – you always do," Charlie said reassuringly as Connie gave him a slight smile. She hoped, for Rita's sake, that Charlie was right.

 **Short and sweet, this chapter. More soon.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

She closed the last file of the day, satisfied that she had cleared the bulk of paperwork which had littered her desk for the majority of the week. As she sat there in the silence which dominated her office, she contemplated what to do next. She knew what she wanted to do. She just wasn't quite sure if she had the confidence to carry it through. She shut down her computer and took the car keys out of her bag. She gave a sigh as she tried to make a decision on what to do. Should she follow her heart – or follow her head? Either option may take her to the same place. As she got in the car and drove, she tried to block out the thoughts she had of being pushed away.

Once again, she stood on the doorstep – taking a deep breath before pressing the doorbell to the right of her. Through the glass of the front door, Connie could see that the hall light was off. She wondered where Rita was. Maybe she was sleeping and wouldn't answer the door. Connie half hoped that was the case so she didn't have to face Rita after she'd sent her away this morning. As much as she wanted to see her, she was slightly apprehensive about what Rita's reaction might be to finding her on her doorstep once more. She pressed the bell once, telling herself this would be last time she'd ring it before giving up and going home. She couldn't, after all, make Rita open the door to her. The hallway beyond the door stayed stubbornly dark with no signs of life inside. Connie sighed. Perhaps Rita was sleeping, no one could deny that she needed the rest. Just before turning away and making her way down the steps back towards her car, she gently pushed open the letter box and held her breath as she listened for any noise inside the house. As she listened intently, she was sure that she could hear the sound of someone sobbing. She pressed her ear closer to the opening of the letter box flap, trying to listen as hard as she could. She quietened her own breathing as much as possible to enable her to focus on listening for any sounds that might mean that Rita was in need of her help. She knocked on the door loudly before ringing the bell once more. The sobbing stopped suddenly, before starting again with more intensity than before.

Connie looked around, desperate to find a way into the house. It was obvious that Rita needed help and she needed to get inside the house as soon as she could. She scrabbled around looking under the door mat which lay outside the front door. Finding nothing there, she began hastily looking through the plant pots that were scattered about Rita's door step.

"You alright love?" came the voice from across the small fence that separated Rita's garden from her next door neighbours.

"I was just hoping to get inside to check on Rita," Connie began explaining, "I work with her at the hospital and just wanted to make sure she was OK." She didn't want to alarm the older looking guy who stood on the other side of the fence so didn't mention the fact that she could hear her crying and was desperate to get inside the house as soon as she could.

"I've got a key for emergencies," the neighbour began, "but I'm not sure about letting you in though as I've never met you before." Connie face visibly dropped as he finished his sentence.

"I'm Connie Beauchamp, clinical lead at Holby City Emergency department," she said as she reached her hand out to shake his. "Rita's my clinical nurse manager. I looked after when she was in hospital recently and just really need to check that she's ok." Connie spoke calmly and with an even tone, despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to shout and scream about why she needed to get into Rita's house immediately.

"I'll let you in," the man replied as he set off down his garden path before turning through Rita's small garden gate and joining Connie on the doorstep.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Connie said as he unlocked the door and let Connie push through the door ahead of him. The eerie silence of the hallway was suddenly interrupted with loud uncontrolled sobs.

"I'll leave you to it," he said to Connie, starting the close the door behind her. He'd found Rita when she'd taken her last overdose and he wasn't sure he was ready to face whatever mess she'd got herself into now. After shutting the door firmly, he made his way back next door hoping he'd done the right thing by letting the rather formidable, but strikingly beautiful, women into his lonely neighbour's house.

 **Hope you like the update - it's a bit short but the next chapter is one of my favourites.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for the reviews - they are very much appreciated. Hope you like the chapter.**

Chapter 13

"Rita," Connie called softly as she made her way through the hallway and into the sitting room. She'd abandoned her heels at the front door so padded softly across the laminate flooring of the hallway and through the open doorway. The sight that met her as she came through the door was one to send a rush of panic and fear straight to her heart. Instantly she snapped back into clinical lead mode as she looked around and began to assess the situation. Judging by the wine bottles that littered the sitting room floor, Rita had got fed up of recuperating at home from her last ordeal and had taken matters into her own hands once again.

"Don't come near me," Rita struggled to say through the sobs which shook her whole body. She sat on the floor in the corner of the sitting room with her knees drawn up to her chin. She was wearing nothing more than a rather short nightdress that didn't leave a lot to the imagination. Connie cringed as she saw her; Rita always came across as someone who valued their modesty and seeing her on the floor before her made her want to take her into her arms and make everything okay once more.

"Rita, please," Connie began, "I just want to help you." Connie watched as Rita began to shake her head violently from side to side.

"NO, I don't need any help, I'm fine." Connie wasn't sure if Rita was trying to tell herself that she was ok rather than Connie. Rita took another hefty swing from the bottle of wine that she had by her side. As she brought it down from her lips she began to sob once more. As the wine bottle hit the floor, the sobs came thick and fast; louder and more pronounced than before. Connie took the opportunity to remove the wine bottle from Rita's side and placed it out of reach. Gently, she sidled up to Rita and placed her arms around her shoulders before pulling her in close towards her. Rita burrowed her face into Connie's shoulder as Connie ran her hand gently and comfortingly up and down Rita's back. Gradually, Rita's sobs began to lessen and her body began to relax into Connie's. Connie held her as close as she could, silently willing all of Rita's troubles away, all the while knowing that it could never be that simple.

"You shouldn't've," Rita began though her sobs.

"Sshhhhhhh," Connie replied as she placed a delicate kiss upon the top of Rita's head, pulling her even closer still.

"I don't deserve you," Rita began once more, her sobs beginning to subside a little. Connie just continued to hold her close and provide with the comfort that she craved and needed so much.

"How about we get you into bed?" Connie suggested softly. Rita nodded weakly as she curled into Connie as they remained sat on the floor. They sat there, together, on the floor for a few minutes until Connie began to take Rita in her arms and encouraged her to her feet in order to make her way up to bed. "Are you ok?" she asked as they neared the top of the stairs. Rita had paused before retching slightly in her arms.

"Um, I feel a bit sick," Rita began.

"Ok, no worries," Connie replied as she swiftly moved Rita to the bathroom as quickly as she could. As she lifted the toilet seat, Rita leaned forward and was violently sick once more. Connie held her steady as she continued to retch into the toilet bowl, feeling weaker and weaker as the minutes passed. As the vomiting began to subside, Connie reached out for the flannel on the side of the bath and ran it under the tap with using one hand. Supporting Rita firmly with the other hand, she took the damp flannel and gently wiped Rita's face and brow with it. She placed the flannel on the floor before using her now spare hand to tug down at Rita's nightdress which had ridden up beyond her waist.

"Right, let's get you into bed," Connie said as she began to pull Rita into a standing position. Rita swayed against Connie as she regained her balance and began walking slowly and steadily to the bedroom.

"Um," Rita paused and Connie turned to look at her. "I think I need to wear something else," Rita finished as she glanced down to the vomit stains that littered the front of her nightdress.

"It's ok, we'll get you some clean pyjamas," Connie said as she sat Rita down on the side of the bed. Rita watched as Connie looked through a couple of drawers until she found the right one. She selected a matching set of pyjamas, feeling a strange feeling of comfort that the ones she'd selected would offer Rita more modesty than the nightdress that she currently wore. Connie crossed the room back to the bed where Rita remained seated, staring straight ahead.

"Ok, arms up." Connie held out the clean pyjama top as she instructed Rita to raise her arms. As Rita lifted her arms, Connie swiftly removed the soiled nightdress over her head before promptly replacing it with a clean top. She picked up the pyjama bottoms and encouraged Rita's legs into them, before supporting Rita in a standing position and pulling them up to her waist. If either Rita or Connie felt at all embarrassed by this swift procedure, neither of them let on to the other. Connie pulled back the duvet and encouraged Rita to get in before she covered up the small blonde and began to tuck the duvet around her.

"I'll pop down and get you a glass of water, do you want anything else?" Connie asked as she stood up to her full height after bending down alongside Rita as she'd tucked her in.

Rita shook her head slightly before stopping as it obviously caused her discomfort.

"Uh, will you come back?" Rita asked, hiding as much of her face under the duvet as she could for fear of Connie rejecting her as she asked. She suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable; not only because Connie was seeing her at her lowest point, but also because she had finally come to realise that she wanted Connie. She wanted her to stay with her, to comfort her and be there for her – to some extent she needed Connie.

"Of course," Connie replied, smiling gently whilst reaching out and squeezing Rita's arm through the padding of the duvet. "I won't be long." She hurriedly made her way downstairs, finding glasses in the kitchen cupboards and running the tap to allow the water to run cold before filling the glasses. As she glanced around the room before switching off the light, she noticed the washing up bowl in the sink and grabbed that as well, in case Rita should feel ill again during the night. After checking that the front door was securely locked, she switched off the remaining lights before making her way back up the stairs to where Rita lay waiting for her.

"Thank you," Rita began as Connie placed the water on her bedside table. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Connie placed the bowl down the side of the bed before crouching down so that her face was level with Rita's.

"Would you like me to stay with you tonight?" she asked softly, hoping and praying that Rita said yes.

Rita nodded almost imperceptibly. She closed her eyes tightly; what on earth was Connie going to make of her? She felt Connie take her hand and give it a comforting squeeze before she heard her move around to the other side of the bed. Connie undressed quickly until she was left wearing a plain white vest top and white lace knickers. She slipped between the sheets before taking Rita gently into her arms and holding her close. Her fingers gently caressed her skin until she felt Rita beginning to relax and slowly fall into a fitful slumber.

 **The next chapter might be a while as I'm a bit behind on writing this story x x**


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